Demonboy
by demort
Summary: Some magics are not to be trifled with. Demon-boy makes sure a certain Dark Lord to-be knows that. No ships. Not a crack-fic.
1. Prologue

A/D: I disclaim, not mine. If it was, Voldemort would win. Disclaimer is for all chapters.

A/W: It's neither time-travel nor re-incarnation story. Demon-boy is an OC but also not an OC (just read the prologue). No ships. It's not a cross-over.

A/N: The text in * is Rowling's. Prologue is hideously short. Chapters will be 2k plus.

* * *

*'…_ten years during which we can only guess what Lord Voldemort was doing…_'*

**Prologue**

**36 years later…**

*The green light flashed around the room and she dropped like her husband. The child had not cried all this time; he could stand, clutching the bars of his cot and he looked up into the intruder's face with a kind of bright interest, perhaps thinking that it was it father who hid beneath the cloak, making more pretty lights and his mother would pop up any moment, laughing-*

As Lord Voldemort moved closer to the cot, the clouds shifted from the moon outside the window and the child's face was illuminated in the dark room. And he really _saw_ the face of his alleged downfall.

The face, the jet black hair, the eyes…The Dark Lord froze in his advance as a long forgotten memory surfaced.

"Demon-boy", he whispered.


	2. Chapter 1

_*'Oh, he dreamed of it,' said Harry, 'but he knew more than you, knew enough not to do what you've done.'* _

**Chapter 1**

19 year old Tom Riddle, pardon Lord Voldemort, couldn't sleep.

His inability to rest doesn't stem from the fact that he had already murdered six individuals and split his soul four times. Appalling as that figure may be, the Dark Lord to-be had no trouble sleeping with that. So whatever must be keeping him up at this ungodly hour must surely warrant great dread: What kind of monstrosity is sure to befall on the wizard-kind that even _he_ is restless? What evil must have been unleashed? Was there any hope?

On closer inspection, one can see him lying on his single bed, facing the graying walls of a Spartan room with his all-too-thin pillow clamped over his head. The source of his annoyance seems to be a steadily increasing sound of 'honk-shoo' coming from somewhere under his bed. Lord Voldemort had monsters under his bed?

Armed with this potentially disturbing notion, one attempts to seek the truth for themselves. But as they say, truth is infinitely stranger than fiction. Under his bed lay no grotesque fiend of the underworld but a two year old child. Even though his physical features were indiscernible in the darkness of the room, there could be no mistaking that the child was, in fact, snoring. Loudly.

"Will you cut it out?" snapped the irate wizard when he could take it no more, and punched the headboard for good measure. The resulting sound seemed to have finally awakened the toddler under his bed (?)

"Urgh…what?"

The voice was unlike any baby's. In fact judging by the voice alone, one could conclude that it was a man with a slightly effeminate voice rather than a child.

"Some of us are trying to sleep here. Must you snore?"

"Aww ickle-tommykins can't sleepy-weepy with all that noise?" mocked the child with his body appropriate voice.

Now anyone could have told the child that that was a very _wrong_ thing to say to a sleep-deprived person, much less a future Dark Lord. Faster than you could think that, Riddle had his wand in hand and a blinding green light travelling towards the offender. But rather than a muffled thump of a dead body, the child was sitting up, laughing at the other.

"Na na na nana. Demon, remember?"

"Wish I didn't.", declared the wizard and tried futilely to go to sleep. Long after the confrontation, when the cacophony of snores died down to slow breathing, Tom's mind drifted to the day it all began as he too fell asleep.

* * *

Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, was the last Heir to the noble line of Salazar Slytherin. But due to circumstances beyond his control, he was also a half-blood. Not that he would admit it, but deep, deep down; Tom was a bit ashamed of that fact and sometimes doubted his place as the Heir. But when four years ago, he found the Chamber of Secrets and Salazar's basilisk obeyed him, he was filled with new vigor to complete his forefather's work: total segregation of the wizarding world. And aid to his noble quest was The Book.

The Book was to anyone else a normal leather bound volume that was filled with childish scribbles. But to a parseltongue, it was the handwritten descriptions of the many rites, spells and rituals that Slytherin himself performed or invented. Plus it also had a very good selection of jokes at the end.

"_Why did the muggle cross the road?"_

"_Because it couldn't apparate to the other side"_

In short, it was a gold-mine.

It was The Book that the Basilisk was guarding in the Chamber, which was currently in Riddle's bag as he made his way through the streets. Tom was used to venturing in hostile terrain in search of magic and power. Only last month he was deep within the forests of Albania searching for the Ravenclaw's diadem. But never before had he come across anything as unnerving as the place he was visiting right now.

According to The Book, this place held great power to those who knew how to tap it. And tap he would but he was beginning to have misgivings about the whole journey. The streets were narrow; visibility was low due to the early morning fog and something obviously much more sinister. Already, he had bumped into two wizards, a hag, a goblin and something that looked like the lovechild of the last two. And if their glares were anything to go by, he better watch his back. The noise from the surrounding muggle areas couldn't be contained by even the silencing charm on the periphery and it broke through to the unnaturally quiet alley. It was a dark and dreary place which made one wish longingly for the Knockturn Alley back home.

The wizards called it '_Magnus Malus'._

Muggles called it New York City.

Tom called it boot camp for his future followers.

It was deep within this city; at an abandoned warehouse that Tom Riddle could be seen drawing a ritual circle on All Hallows Eve. The arcane language in which the ritual was written led him to believe that it probably predated anything in wizarding history. Luckily for him, he had an ancestor who had made it his mission in life to decode such languages. Pity he died before performing it himself.

As the afternoon gave into dusk, Tom quivered in anticipation. Everything was ready. The runes were drawn; his pronunciation was spot on and he could recite the chants in his sleep. The blood sacrifice was ready: it was perhaps the easiest to obtain, so many rats littered this city. Human sacrifice was, sadly, prohibited in the ritual. He had warded the entire warehouse with enough spells to be assured of its impenetrability. As the clock struck eight, he started the ritual.

The rite would allow him to tap in to the sentient magic that makes up the universe. Such magic, so very different from the core magic that allows a wizard to perform spells, would give him incredible power to execute near impossible feats. He could raise an army of inferis and still engage in mortal combat the next moment. It was basically The Union of a person's magical core with the magical core of the universe. He could then draw upon the vast reserves of the Universal Core at will. Sure it was the deep end of Dark Magic, but the results would be incredible, he would undoubtedly become the most powerful wizard in the world.

After an hour of chanting, sacrificing and performing the spells, Tom was ready to head into the meditative state. The circle encompassing the pentagram shone a brilliant blue, meaning everything was ready for the next step. He relaxed into his meditative state to open his core to the Outside. This was the longest and the most crucial part of the ritual for if the wizard failed to Connect, the ritual would be meaningless.

Three hours later, the light from the runes faded from blue to mauve to violet and finally settled on blood red. Oblivious to all of these, Tom was still in a trance. Suddenly the candles were extinguished by an icy draught which seemed to fill the entire room. The runes stopped glowing abruptly and the temperature dropped lower as Tom screamed. Something was wrong.

Pain as he never experienced before, hundred times worse the cruciatus, racked his body as Tom trembled and dropped to the side. His eyes started bleeding and his screams gained more intensity and he started having a fit. It was too much…

Quite abruptly the temperature returned to normal and the candle lit as Tom opened his eyes. In front of him was the figure of a devil, for what else could a child with red skin, pointed horns and forked tail be.

"Who…who are you?" he stuttered the question as he felt the aftershocks of such an episode.

"Your punishment" was the ominous reply. The voice alone threatened to bring back his pain.

"What did I do wrong?"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle, you have insulted magic by attempting to perform the The Union with a severed soul. As such you must face the consequences."

And Tom knew it was no order but a sentence, a life sentence. He cursed himself for his foolishness, how could he have overlooked such an important matter? He should have never even attempted the ritual. He had forgotten that any magical bonds required both parties to be of whole body, mind _and_ soul.

"Are you going to kill me?" he asked; the fear in his eyes unmasked.

"No. I'm going to stay with you." And quite suddenly the voice had lost its judgmental quality and was quite childish as it said, "Can we go for ice-cream?"

"What?"

"I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice-cream.", the devil or whatever it was, actually _sang_.

And Tom Riddle, the Heir of Slytherin, future Dark Lord, knew in that moment that he should have chosen death when he had the chance.

Magic was nothing but a sadist.

* * *

"I can't take you outside looking like that!"

After downing a few pain relieving potions, Tom was ready to leave the city and never look back. But the _thing_ had something else in mind.

As he said that, it conjured up a mirror and checked its reflection and said, "Why? I look absolutely spiffing if I say so myself."

"Try not to. Earth is inhabited by humans, not red devil babies or whatever you are."

"I'll have you know that I am much more superior to a mere devil. I'm a demon." It actually sniffed as it announced that as though it was highly insulting to call a demon, devil.

"Oh forgive me for not realizing the netherworld hierarchy. Now about your appearance?"

The demon clicked its fingers and in its place was a normal two year old human baby with thin face, jet black messy hair, green eyes and facial features quite similar to Tom. He was wearing a red shirt and denim overalls. He could pass as Tom's brother or even son.

"If anyone asks, you are my nephew. Wait; forget that, two year olds can't speak."

"Can't I, Tommy-kins?"

This was going to be one hell of a punishment thought the future Dark Lord as he picked up the demon-boy and made his way out of the warehouse for…ice-cream.

Magic truly was a sadist.


	3. Chapter 2

_*'This is magic at its deepest, its most impenetrable…'* _

**Chapter: 2**

As abruptly as one who is experiencing REM sleep awakens from a dream, Lord Voldemort woke to find himself nose to nose with a giant nose, a slimy cattle nose.

And an equally disgusting pink tongue licked any thoughts of going back to sleep, away.

"Yuck!" proclaimed Tom and slid several steps back from the creature as it gave a 'YAAAHHH' and moved to lick him again.

Hastily, he drew back further from what was undoubtedly a yak but regretted doing so almost instantly as it brought him in contact with the snowy ground, away from the warm cocoon of his sleeping bag. As it was, he was clad only in his pajamas.

Snow? Sleeping bag? Yak? What the hell? Was he really in New York City?

"Oh good, you are awake. How do I look?"

Tom turned his head backwards and looked at who was obviously the person behind his current predicament.

Demon-boy was wearing what could only be described as the traditional dress of the Tibetan wizards. He was wearing a white woolen shirt and red trousers that looked like tights. And a blue knee length one shoulder robe, with ethnic designs, over the shirt and fastened by a big cloth belt and a longer, full length outer cloak with animal fur at the hem and neckline. It was topped off with a furry cap and long boots with more fur at the top. He was also wearing many beaded chains around his neck. All that culture on a two year old body looked so utterly ridiculous that Tom couldn't stop a snort.

"Oh so you think this is funny? We'll see who is laughing when I leave you in your pajamas for the entire trip."

That threat made Tom acutely aware that his backside and hands was numb from sitting on the snow and he was shivering in the icy environment. And it also brought back his previous bewilderment at being in the middle of nowhere when was supposed to be safe asleep in a hotel room in New York City.

"Where the hell am I?"

"The Himalayan Mountain Range of course, somewhere in the borderline of Nepal and Tibet."

He was halfway across the globe? In his pajamas?!

"..What…where…WHY?!"

The hell-child actually tsked. Tom was fast approaching the point of _'Avada Kedavra'_ and if it were any mortal being they should have hid their tails between their legs and run in the opposite direction. But unfortunately for him, it was no mere mortal haunting his steps but a full fledged demon.

"Now, now Tommy-kins did you really think your punishment would be simple? No, you are about to experience, first hand, what happens to those who manage to piss off Magic. Now come, we are burning daylight."

The last bit was fanciful thinking because the sky was so dark with stormy, grey clouds that one couldn't see the sun at all. But as it was, our Dark Lord-To-Be-Who-Managed-To-Piss-Off-Magic had no choice but to follow. Pulling his wand out of his sleeves, he cast a quick heating charm on himself, checked that The Book was still in his pocket (shrunken of course) but when he attempted to transfigure his PJs into a robe, Magic didn't obey him.

"Oh I wouldn't bother if I were you Tommy-kins; you won't be able to transfigure them. That's your punishment for insulting me."

Now if it were any normal mortal, they would have gotten an 'excuse me for having a sense of style' shoved up their behind so fast it'd make their head spin. But demon-boy was no mere mortal and Tom wisely kept his two cents to himself. Disgruntled but not dissuaded, he let his curiosity run his full course as they travelled the snowy path.

"Are you going to push me off a cliff?" he questioned.

"Tom, Tom, Tom, questions like that and you'd think I don't like you or something…Well, in any case, Magic is much too creative to simply push you off a mountain and be done with it. Believe it or not, It is actually quite fond of you."

"Excuse me if I maintain a healthy dose of skepticism at that." Tom couldn't keep his counsel at that point, it seems.

No sooner had the words left his mouth, Tom felt himself flying through the air, hit in the rear by the same yak which had woken him so rudely that morning and found himself lying face-first on a snowy heap.

"Ouch…what was that for?", Tom looked accusingly up at the demon.

"Don't look at me, it's her fault. Come to think of it, she was there waiting when I first arrived with you and it seems she has been following you. Aww, I think she has a little crush on you, isn't that sweet?"

Choosing not to think on such potentially disturbing topics as the yak's attachment to him (or his rear, however you looked at it) and definitely staying away from the thought as to how demon-boy was able to assign it a gender when everything was covered by fur, Tom got up and brushed the snow off his PJs. But when he felt the yak nuzzling his elbow with another 'YAHHH', he put up a shield charm just in case and picked up his pace to catch up with the demon.

After an hour long trek in which he slipped no less than five times on the ice, Tom got a nagging suspicion that they were lost. He was pretty sure they had already passed that rock two times and were approaching it from the third direction this time.

"We are lost, aren't we?", he asked bluntly.

"Lost? Of course we are not lost. I'm just taking the more scenic route."

"Yes because growing up in England I have never seen snow or felt bone-chilling cold. Then care to explain why they are two sets of footprint leading to the rock with a set of hoof-prints trailing behind it?"

"You wizards these days have no respect for Magic. Why I'm quite sure that's another one of my brethren carrying on his noble duty to Magic."

Now at this point Tom knew better than to speak his mind. With a species-confused infatuated beast at his heels and another arrogant demon at the front, Tom was stuck between a rock and a hard place. So he kept his mouth shut.

Three hours later, hungry and shivering, Tom was on the verge of collapsing on the snow. Already, keeping up the oxygen supply and the heating charm was taxing at his strength and add to that the hunger gnawing at his belly, he was not sure how much more he had in him. He had long since given up on the shield charm and it was the yak who nudged him on path whenever he strayed off the ridge to the fall beneath it. So when demon-boy halted in front of another cliff to ponder something, possibly the path to wherever they were supposed to be going but weren't because they were hopelessly lost, Tom lost his temper.

"I AM COLD, HUNGRY AND TIRED. WE ARE LOST! AND IT ISN'T LIKE WE CAN ASK SOMEONE FOR DIRECTION. I HAVE HAD IT; JUST PUSH ME OFF THIS CLIFF AND BE DONE WITH IT!"

Demon-boy just looked at him with his too green eyes at that pronouncement and said "You were hungry, now why didn't you say so? I packed you some lunch, here."

And with that, demon-boy reached into the voluminous folds of his robe and withdrew a package. Too hungry to care about anything else, Tom snatched it from him and tore upon his lunch. Meanwhile, demon-boy conjured up some blue-flames and suddenly Tom was so warm, he was in heaven. Now why didn't he think of those flames?

After a hearty but cold lunch, Tom was feeling up for the pointless journey to Demon-Knows-Where. As he stood up he realized that he was reclining against the yak and that was keeping him so warm. He actually felt it in his heart to pet her, how could he have ever actively tried to avoid such a kind creature?

"Okay, let's go, wherever it is we are going."

"Actually we are here."

With that, demon-boy pointed to the steep drop off the cliff. When Tom moved closer to have another look, he almost had a vertigo. It was more than a hundred feet drop. In fact, they were so high up that the bottom looked black. Suddenly Tom wasn't so sure that demon-boy wouldn't push him to his death.

"I was just hungry when I said that. I didn't think you'd take it so seriously. It was just my temper talking; I apologize for shouting at you."

Now demon-boy was frowning at him. Would he really push Tom to his death? "No, really, we are meant to jump off the cliff. It's down there."

'_Of course it is. Death is down there.'_ But Tom knew better than to say that loud.

"Really I'm sorry for being so short with you. And I don't think we are lost, so can we continue on our way so you can forget about this whole cliff episode?"

Finally it seemed as if the proverbial light bulb lit over his head and demon-boy actually smiled as he said, "Tommy-kins, our destination is down there, The City of Shangri-La. And the only way to get there is by jumping off this cliff."

_'Shangri-La? The fabled utopia of wizards? The city of immortal monks? Magic _wanted_ him to visit that? Really?'_

Just then, Tom looked like a kid in front of a chocolate factory. His face was lit up and he broke into a wide grin. And he looked just about ready to really jump off the cliff.

"Hard to say who is the two year old here…Yes, Magic wants you to visit Shangri-La to learn an important lesson. So don't expect any free time, this isn't a vacation!"

_'Which idiot would want to slack off when they were in Shangri-La. The legends of the monks, the power, their spells and potions, the fabled fountain of youth! And their powers at meditation: occlumency, legilimency, illusions…This was his punishment?'_

At that moment, Tom was at peace with the world._  
_

'_I love magic…'_

"So what will I learn there?"

"Oh I'm glad you asked that. You don't understand Death Tom Riddle, so you don't respect it. Magic wants you to accept Death like you accepted It. And who better to teach you about Death than the immortal monks of Shangri-La?"

And suddenly Tom wasn't so sure about this trip. But he didn't get to dwell on that as demon-boy clasped his hand into his own and the other in one of the yak's horns and next they were taking the plunge. So all he could manage as the cold air sped past him and the ground rushed to meet him was a dry and sarcastic, "Who indeed?"


	4. Chapter 3

_*'I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive and, apparently, friendless?'*_

**Chapter: 3**

Tom Riddle woke up to find himself behind bars.

His first thought was, _'what the-'_

His first word was, "bibi-mon"

And his first reaction was to faint. (Not that he would admit doing so, even under Veritaserum. Dark Lords to-be simply do not faint: they assess their current predicament and then conclude that everything will make much more sense after a short nap.)

* * *

For a second time that day, Tom Riddle woke up to less than normal circumstances. This time it was to a puke inducing stench. He was still behind bars, which on closer inspection turned out to be a crib. And the stench was coming from his diaper.

Lord Voldemort was wearing a diaper and it was soiled. Unable to make head or tail of the situation, baby Tom began to cry.

"Aww, look who is awake…Tommy-kins, did you dirty your nappy-wappy?"

Tom Riddle, AKA Lord Voldemort, decided then and there that he would forgo with destroying the Muggle populace and make eradicating demons his first priority. No one, absolutely no one, cooed at him.

"Waha ibbiz no?"

"Not now. Let's get you cleaned up first. And then we'll satisfy your ever curious mind."

And to Tom's horror, Demon-boy changed him, Muggle style. His rage at being turned into a baby was eclipsed by embarrassment at being changed by a two year old. A dull flush colored his normally pallid cheeks and he looked away from Demon-boy who was currently rubbing talcum powder on his bum. Maybe Magic wanted him to die of sheer humiliation.

"There, all cleaned up…" Demon-boy actually smiled at him. "Now to answer your questions: yes, you are a healthy fifteen month old baby with the mind of a nineteen year old. No, I didn't do this; we landed in the Fountain of Youth. The Monks didn't tell me they were landscape designing-for the hundredth time this century, might I add-or I would have brought you from the other entrance…Okay, no need to glare, maybe it is my fault."

As he paused, Tom's stomach gave a loud growl. Demon-boy smirked as he conjured up a bottle filled with milk and handed it to Tom. Tom gave him a 'there's no way in hell I'm drinking from a bottle' look. Demon-boy sighed and banished the bottle. He didn't miss the look of pained misery that flashed across Tom's face for a second before it was replaced with one of indifference. Tom controlled his hunger and not the other way around.

"Well I'm not affected because of the obvious and neither is the yak, which is very curious…You can communicate through Legilimency and I don't know how or when you'll change back. The Monks weren't very specific about the anti-dote. As it is, they are honoring your visit in the most peculiar way. Let's go meet them."

Tom was a bit startled by the abrupt change in conversation and continued to stare. But when Demon-boy showed every inclination to _carry_ him to the Monks, Tom made a quick mental shout-out, _'I can walk.'_

Tom got no answer but a faintly amused feeling from Demon-boy who lowered him to the floor. He was a little wobbly on his feet but was completely confident that he could manage the journey. No sooner had he taken four steps that he promptly fell on his bum. And his legs didn't seem willing to try that again. As Demon-boy made an exasperated motion towards him, Tom started crawling to the door.

'_How do you walk so well?'_

'_My appearance is only an illusion. I'm a full-grown demon: I can carry you just fine without magic.'_

'_Why didn't you change me with magic?'_

'_Magic-especially a demon's-is never used on infants. It can have disastrous consequences as a wizard's innate magic is very sensitive for the first two years of his life. And it can also interfere with their proper magical core development.'_

They were staying at what appeared to be a dorm room in a monastery. The room led into a hallway which had beautiful thangka pictures, depicting various Buddhist deities, on either side of them. It opened up into a huge hall, roughly the size of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. There was a soft golden light illuminating the entire room.

The room was done mostly in the shades of maroon and red. On one end was a shrine with three huge, golden sculptures of Lord Buddha in the lotus position. The rest of the hall was a sitting space with cushions and low desks and a clear pathway leading from the statues to the door. Scrolls, decorated with writings in maroon and gold cloths, hung from the ceilings. The walls were decorated with delicate thangkas, a single one covering a whole side. The door was artfully engraved and painted with deities and demons. All in all, it was the heart of the monastery: the very best the Monks of Shangri-La had to offer, culture-wise.

Out on the courtyard, Tom came face to face with the most peculiar sight of that day. A couple of monks were meditating, balancing themselves one-legged on a bamboo pole. While that in itself was not particularly strange, the fact that both of them appeared no older than two year old was.

'_Explain.'_

'_They are honoring your visit Tom.'_

'…_By changing themselves into infants?'_

'_They were bored. They are immortal, rarely anything of interest happens when you live forever in one of the most secluded places on the planet. Your misfortune was a wonderful opportunity for them to let their hair down-not that they have any-and have some fun.'_

Suddenly, Tom had a feeling that he would have landed in that Fountain even if he had burrowed to Shangri-La. This visit was probably just a big set-up so that a bunch of immortal old men and a demon could have their fun. Fuming at the injustice of when the Universe-or rather specifically Magic-was really out to get you, Tom crawled into the courtyard. A little further along he heard the one thing he hoped never to hear again: a loud and soon-to-be-wet 'YAHHHH'. So the yak was still here.

'_Yes and she seems to found a friend.'_

Beside the yak was another yak: a gigantic, bulky, black male yak with a pair of enormous horns. As she continued to lick everywhere from Tom's hair to all the way to his backside and gave him continuous 'YAHHHH(s)', the male looked ready to impale him upon his horns. It seems the male yak had marked Tom as a threat and was silently relaying that challenge through a very evil stink-eye. Tom quickly crawled off.

The Monks on the bamboo pole gave them a short bow as they passed and returned to their previous stances. That brought up another question.

'_How is it that they can do yoga and I can't even walk?'_

Before Demon-boy could answer him, a deep, unified voice resonated within Tom's mind as the two Monks on poles gave him identical smirks, _'We have ways.' _

After that ominous and slightly creepy pronouncement, Tom and Demon-boy reached the end of the courtyard and looked outside the main gate. And Tom felt his jaw drop.

Outside the door was Shangri-La, an island, the Heaven on Earth.

The monastery they were at was located on the mountain that dominated the island and was just high enough to give them a panoramic view of the surrounding area. Shangri-La was surrounded on all four sides by immense, white Himalayas with an ever present fog. The deep blue sky dotted with white, fluffy clouds was reflected in the clear, green waters of the lake on which stood the island of Shangri-La. Four waterfalls, from the four directions, originating from the Himalayas fed icy water to the lake: the Fountain(s) of Youth. The white, sandy beach was littered with Monks and animals alike enjoying a fine day under the sun. The air was clean, the temperature was just right, a cool breeze was blowing ever so lazily and Shangri-La was just so-

"Beautiful, isn't she?"

Tom could do nothing but nod as he stood savoring the sight before him. Nothing in the world could ever compare to this. It was perfect, absolutely perfect!

"Well the Monks are waiting for us at the beach. Let's go then."

The journey from the monastery to the beach was exactly a thousand steps long. Tom was of course carried by Demon-boy (Tom wasted fifteen minutes arguing in favor of alternatives). He also finally succumbed to his hunger and requested, politely this time, for the bottle. As they reached the bottom, the bottle was empty and Tom was fast asleep in Demon-boy's arms. The Monks could wait until after the nap.


	5. Chapter 4

_*'I could show and tell your students things they can gain from no other wizard.'*_

** Chapter: 4**

19 year old Lord Voldemort, who would rather not be known as Tom Riddle, woke up to find himself face to-

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH"

"RRRROOAAARRRR"

_"aaaaaahhhhhhhhh"_

As Tom gave an impossibly high pitched scream that was sure to shatter some eavesdropping eardrums, his immediate object of distress gave a loud whine and attempted to hide behind a rather small rock.

And speaking of eavesdropping eardrums...

"Tommy-"

...and object of distress...

"-kins, don't scare him!"

Now, Tom was a reasonable young man. He agreed that many a times, he came off as a scary psychotic dark wizard hell bent on world domination-which he undoubtedly was- but this...this accusation was nothing but a scandal.

"Excuse me? Me, scare that...that thing? Are demons blind or are you being dense on purpose?"

Tom didn't expect that comment to do him any favors and it didn't. Demon-boy gave him a very dirty look and walked up to him in a fairly threatening manner. But luckily for him, Demon-boy turned sideways and picked up a huge bone lying beside him. And the transformation it brought to both of them left Tom gaping. The scary-big-monster gave another loud roar at the sight of the bone and started acting like a domestic pooch. Demon-boy was not far behind as the doting owner.

"You want this, boy? Yes, you do...Go on then...FETCH!"

And just like that, the scary-bog-monster with its gigantic frame, razor-sharp teeth, sharp claws and everything else that just screamed predator bounded off to fetch the bone, leaving the ground trembling in it's wake. Tom was still gaping.

"Close your mouth, Tommy-kins."

"What_ is_ that thing?"

"Just the last surviving T-Rex in the world...dinosaur?"

As the last word registered in his mind, Tom dearly wished for those good old days when he could wake up without questioning his sanity.

* * *

TBC

Am having a writer's block on the second part. Will add more as soon as the block end.


End file.
